You Aren't Him
by smileyanne
Summary: He hears it from everyone. That he isn't Gibbs. Yet, hearing it from HER, it changes things. Set while Gibbs is in Mexico. Implied JIBBS


**A/N: So the response I got from What Shannon Would Say is astounding. I posted it like less than five hours ago, and yet I've gotten more response from it then I did from a week of OPERATION: Break the Tension. Two fics in one day. I'm on a roll! Not for JONY fans.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS**

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><p>NCIS was deserted, or <em>close <em>to deserted.

Autopsy was empty except for the silent guests that would never speak again. The lab was silent other than the soft whirring of machines that had been left on to work their magic over night. And that magical place that held an enchanting chaos, the bullpen, almost 24/7 was empty, for _once. _

But, if anyone had bothered to enter the infamous MTAC (though that would be hard considering the room was on lockdown). They would've entered into a room completely devoid of people, save for the face of the man on the large screen that illuminated the two silhouettes sitting together in the front row.

The two silhouettes that were sitting almost, _inappropriately _close.

Still to the outsider, they would wonder if one or both of them were asleep. Until the distinctively male figure on the left moved, getting out of the theater- styled seats fluidly, and moving over to the computer banks in the corner of the room. A large, tanned hand captured one of the many delicate electronic mice, and in one click. The picture of the man on screen disappeared, and the screen darkened. Engulfing the room in pitch blackness.

"I wasn't finished," a throaty, feminine, alto tone filtered through the darkness. And if it were possible for a voice to sound at home, this woman's voice would have belonged in the shadows. So different from her everyday person, and yet still not showing her true self. She didn't think the man would stick around if he knew her true self.

"We have already decided what to do next. I figured we could take a break," the naivety of that simple statement was almost laughable when compared to what one could distinguish from the unknown woman. This man, didn't seem as at home in the shadows as the woman did. He gave the impression that he thought of himself like her, and to an extent there was darkness in him. But, it didn't even hold a candle to this woman. Whomever this man was, it was grossly obvious, just by his statement, that he was out of his depths here.

"Fine. What shall we do then? Paint our fingernails, and talk about boys? Or should we have a pillow fight?" The woman hissed sarcastically, her voice dropping an octave or two, with the venom that was dripping off of it.

The man by the computer moved, his six-foot something frame noticeable in the darkness, as he glided back to the woman sitting in the seats. He sat back down in his previous spot, but anyone would have noticed that if before they had been sitting _inappropriately _close, now they were sitting much closer. To the point where anybody would have to entertain the thought that there _had _to be something there.

"I out grew pillow fights in high school," the man spoke in a serious tone, again so much different from his day-to-day persona, "we could talk, you know?" The hint of insecurity in his voice would've been endearing to other woman, but to _this _particular woman it was just as much of a weakness as apologies. It didn't help that by the sound of her scoff you could tell that the suggestion of 'talking' didn't appeal to her.

She gave a soft sigh before replying, "You should go home, you'll need to be in early tomorrow. Doesn't your team have a case?" As she spoke she rose from her seat gracefully, and walked towards the exit, the heels she was wearing making a soft _'click-clacking'. _She'd just reached the ramp when the man spoke again, almost as if he didn't realize he was speaking out loud, "yea _my _team," he muttered sarcastically. "Do you miss him?" This time his voice was a little bit louder, and the sight of her lithe body freezing was unexpected from the simple question about an unknown _'him'_. But, to them it must've meant _something. _

Slowly her body did a 360 and she walked stiffly back to her seat, this time leaving a noticeable _distance _between the two. Not even bothering to be discrete, the man scooted closer to her, closing the distance. The tension in the room was palpable, one emanating from him, and one definitely different tension emanating from her.

The man lowered his head before he spoke, almost as if he were ashamed of what he was about to say, "you know its kind of obvious that something happened between the two of you in th-." In an almost robotic voice she interrupted him, her body language even more stiff than it had been before, "if you would like to keep your job I suggest you don't finish that statement."

Raising his head again, you could practically hear the bitterness when he spoke again, "I'll take that as a yes. Ha," he gave a humorless chuckle. Anyone could see his head turning to face hers while she kept her eyes downturned, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Everyone keeps saying that it's my team now; you, SecNav, every politician on Capitol Hill, even him. Everyone except _them, _the actual _team. _They won't listen to me, they're reluctant to follow my commands, they just want _him _back! And they act as if I were the one that personally told him to leave! So I try to act like him, because _he _is the only one _they'll listen to! _And they just keep telling me that I'm _not _him!" Though he'd started out speaking softly, his deep baritone had gradually risen in volume until he was almost shouting. His rant catching steam, and yet she _still _hadn't spoken a single word. Staring ahead mechanically, somewhere in the far corners of the man's mind he could tell she was shutting down. Like she always did when _he _was mentioned.

But, there was a different part of him, the majority of his brain. That realized as his speech was teetering out, that he could smell her perfume. That he could see her figure perfectly outlined; every curve, and every angle. And all he could think about was that _he _was gone.

Slightly hesitant he moved his hand to catch her finger under her chin, tilting her head so that she looked him in the eye, or as much as she could in the darkness. The feel of her soft skin under his fingertips was invigorating, intoxicating, pulling him in closer towards her. His eyes fluttered closed, and he could feel her soft breathing stop. He felt a small hand slide over his chest, and for a moment he thought she was going to pull him closer...

Until she applied pressure.

Before he could process what she was doing, the space between them was increasing instead of decreasing, and his eyes flew open. When he looked at her she wasn't stiff, or angry, she looked..._defeated. _

Immediately his mouth opened to stammer out apologies, so unlike the man that he was trying to impersonate, that she couldn't bear to let him say them. She placed a slender finger over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes fluttered close briefly, and when she opened them he could see the unbearable sadness in them that _explained so much. _The single, solitary, tear that slid down her pale cheeks only seemed fitting.

"You aren't Jethro," she whispered, her voice choked. And as if she had transferred all her emotions to him he was overwhelmed with a sense of defeat that seemed impossible to overcome. His eyes slid closed and he heard the soft clicking of her heels as she escaped. Yet, all he could think about was that it wasn't because of the whole 'boss-subordinate dynamic', that hadn't stopped _them. _It was the simple fact that he wasn't _him. _

When he opened his eyes to find that he was alone in a pitch black room, a shudder ran through him. If he continued on this path he was on now, he could see how his future would be. He had two, well one now, glaring reminder that he saw everyday.

It was then that he made a decision.

He thought about Jennifer Shepard the woman he had just made cry, and his former boss. About what he knew about each of their past. What he knew about the path they were on. _That- they _were his two reminders about what his future would be like if he kept doing this, trying to be someone he wasn't.

He wasn't Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He was Anthony DiNozzo.

And maybe that was a good thing.

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><p><strong>Ok, now that I'm looking back at this I don't really see the point in it anymore. Just the whole JennyTony mystery kills me! And I'm a JIBBS shipper at heart, remember that. If it doesn't make sense I'm sorry, like the fic I posted earlier today it's cleansing. I think I'm gonna post a few more fics like this before I jump into my next big chapter fic.**

**If you don't like it. Don't review it.**


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